On Ascension Day, I read an article in NRC about farmers confronting the strict regulations imposed by the province of Utrecht on livestock farmers, as farmers are commonly referred to nowadays.
Collectively speaking, farmers have traditionally been among the most trustworthy people within our society, something that was also clearly reflected in the article. This is connected to the fact that their profession is one of the oldest in the world and evolved from the hunter-gatherer era of ancient times.
During the Neolithic period, farmers symbolically aligned themselves with the archetype of the bull, ruled by Venus. Hunter-gatherers were driven more strongly by the planets Venus and Mars, because they had to fight and hunt (Mars) in order to be nourished (Venus), whereas hunting was in principle no longer necessary for farmers. From an evolutionary perspective, this transition represented a choice for Venus, causing Mars, so to speak, to retreat into the unconscious. Among hunter-gatherers, both energies were still consciously present. And that is precisely what many farmers with large livestock herds are struggling with today.
Mars lies hidden in the fact that these animals are ultimately often sent for mass slaughter, but many farmers do not directly experience this, because the process takes place in slaughterhouses and is therefore easier to repress. Most are strongly focused on staying economically afloat (Venus) in order to survive. As a result, the struggle of the hunter-gatherers — their original history — rises again from the unconscious. Symbolically, this can also be seen in the upside-down Dutch flags used during protests: the world turned upside down.
A Family of Horticulturists
I myself come from a family of horticulturists, and from an early age I watched my father evolve into someone who deeply reflected on how we ought to treat the earth. That awareness was something I missed in the article I read. In my father’s poems, which I occasionally share with you, you always sense the undertone of his love for the earth and for life itself.
Animals are inseparably connected to the earth. And the earth is transforming; we see this, among other things, in climate change. Respect for animals forms an essential part of this transformation. What is remarkable is that there are also many farmers who have changed. For example, some farmers no longer separate calves from their mothers immediately and only offer milk once the calves have been weaned.
My father too, as a deeply traditional believer, once made the transition to biodynamic gardening, and through this he experienced an inner transformation. Venus became reconnected with Mercury. In another, less conscious way, we see this same principle reflected in large-scale livestock trade, where economics and commerce take center stage; Mercury is, after all, also the planet of trade and exchange.
Within his anthroposophy, Rudolf Steiner proposed that the names and spiritual functions of Venus and Mercury had at some point been “switched” in modern astronomy. According to him, this was not a mistake, but a deliberate esoteric reversal introduced within ancient mystery traditions. Simply put: the point of rest and peace that we now associate with Venus would originally have belonged more to Mercury. Mercury thus acquires a connecting role with Venus, the planet of harmony — and it is precisely this connecting force that is often lacking in our time.
Nature
What we are witnessing now is that the earth is changing: glaciers are disappearing as the planet warms and the environment becomes heavily polluted. This invites us to look differently at matters that for a long time seemed self-evident. Possessions and habits are transforming toward another level of consciousness, one in which materialism can no longer remain central. And that is exactly what humanity struggles with so deeply — and perhaps farmers even more so, because they are naturally strongly connected to stability and continuity.
I am grateful to have been raised with “a different eye” for how one can relate to the earth. Or as my father so beautifully expressed it in the final stanza of his very last poem, Taking Distance. For when you take distance, you see more. You become less attached, making change easier.
Dreaming, I stand upon the tower,
This finger points above.
From a desolate condition,
Seeing with another eye.
